An Ode to the Friends I've Had Since I Was Thirteen

Text: Mia Grassi

Images: Carme Ferrando Soriano

We have been friends for almost ten years, and I am very proud of this fact.  

I announce it with a smile every time I introduce you to someone new, or when I mention you in conversation; and I’ll admit, it happens often because I just can’t resist not talking about you, about those years we shared daily and about the lives you lead now that we’re farther apart. I can’t help but shout how proud I am of you and how grateful I am to know you and have known you all this time. 

We have been friends for almost ten years (8 to be precise - if you care about that sort of thing), since I was thirteen. 

Thirteen is a complicated age, or maybe it just feels that way when you’re no more a child than an adult. In those days I was very harsh: blunt and unforgiving, a mixture of insecurity and undeserved self-righteousness. Yet you never resented me for it, at times you were even delighted by it. You met my harshness with patience, my pretentiousness with humor, and my rigidity with warmth. You accepted parts of me I hadn’t yet come to understand or accept in myself. Since then I have softened, you softened me. And while I still have some sharp, unbending edges (I know, I’m working on it), you have taught me not to take myself quite so seriously all the time. To let go, laugh it off,  to ease up on the world and myself. I’ve always known that even the teasing comments, disagreements, and rare arguments we’ve had have been laced with as much love as the good times. Our friendship, our conversations, the memories we’ve shared have shaped me into someone more open, more compassionate, more grounded. I don’t know who I’d be if we hadn’t met.

We have been friends for almost ten years, and I have been there for all of your firsts and you mine. 

We even had many together. Remember that time we painted matching streaks of blue in our hair so that we’d look cool for our first concert? Or when I taught you how to smoke with stolen cigarettes in that hazy warm basement that played the loud music? I remember explaining that you kinda have to swallow the smoke. Can you still feel the concealed excitement of when we’d walk into the liquor store that didn’t check IDs, looking to buy bottles of vodka to bring to school trips and birthday parties? Who even drinks vodka anymore? After I had sex for the first time I was in a rush to leave his bed so I could run back and tell you all the ways I felt changed and at the same time not different at all. When I was seventeen I wrote in my diary that I learned how much love could truly hurt because I watched you sob on the bathroom floor after a stupid, inconsiderate boy broke your heart. Now years later, after I have seen you face even bigger losses, I know how naive that sounds: no matter how close we are I can’t know the depths of your sorrows. What I can do is hold your hand as you traverse the abyss. I hope I have done that in all the years we have known each other and I know you’ll do the same when my turn comes.

We have been friends for almost ten years, and I am in awe of the people you are becoming. 

I know we don’t talk everyday, not even every week, (sometimes not even every month) but it doesn’t faze us because we know that what we have is secure and undeniable. I’ve gotten to a point where I cannot even imagine a life without you. Now that some of us have made it to graduation and most have gotten their driver’s licence, I can start picturing where you’ll move to next, our future careers, a wedding maybe, a baby? Most of all, I like to picture us together as old ladies. I know, I’m going too fast. What I’m trying to say is that I feel honored just to be a witness of the lives you’re building, wherever they might lead you - let alone be a part of them (and I plan to be for a long time). Looking back over these almost ten years that have gone by so fast, I’m amazed by how much we’ve all grown—not just individually, but together. We’ve moulded each other through years of laughter and cries, deep conversations, long distances, and unwavering support. And because of that, I carry with me pieces of each of you in everything I am - and I am pretty certain you do as well.